


Simulacrum

by ScarlettSiren



Category: ATEEZ (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Amnesia, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Memory Loss, Near Future, Sad with a Happy/Bittersweet Ending, some mentions of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 00:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21027500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettSiren/pseuds/ScarlettSiren
Summary: San wakes from a coma six months after a near-fatal accident all but claimed his life. Despite that he’s avoided any permanent physical injury, his memories from before the accident are fuzzy and disjointed.The first person he sees is Yunho. He remembers being in a relationship with him, living with him, traveling with him… so many memories flickering through his mind’s eye like a camera roll.He does not remember loving Yunho.





	Simulacrum

**Author's Note:**

> I continue to challenge myself with one-shots to fill up the Ateez tag. I actually started this one back in March and have hardly touched it since until a couple of days ago when I had some massive inspiration. This one is MUCH heavier; it is a journey through the stages of grief in the wake of losing someone to amnesia. It has a happy/bittersweet ending, I promise.
> 
> I decided on the vignette style because I wanted this to be short and it worked for Effigy! Plus it works with how scattered and incomplete San’s memories feel to him. That being said a lot of the sections are longer than I wanted but it was necessary.
> 
> A translation is now available in Russian! Thank you @honey_jooheony: [LINK](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9267394)

San wakes in a hospital room. There’s a heart monitor attached to his finger, and the machine beeps rhythmically nearby. Next to it, to his bed, there is a man sitting and watching his face intently.

“Yunho.” His mind supplies.

His voice cracks a little saying it aloud. The man’s face lights up anyway.

“Hey, baby… how are you feeling?”

He’s in a hospital, so he assumes that’s a fair question.

“Um, tired? Just kind of… tired.”

Yunho huffs a laugh, amused and fond all at once. “You’ve been sleeping for six months. How could you possibly be tired?”

“Six months?” San murmurs, trying to rack his brain for some recent memory, some explanation. Nothing comes.

“Yeah, baby. There was a bad accident. You’ve been in a coma.”

“O-oh…” San tries to wrap his head around that. “I don’t… feel hurt.”

“You had a brain injury. They said it’s a miracle you even lived.” Yunho tells him. “You were thrown from the car, which is the only reason you survived. I’m afraid the taxi driver didn’t make it, there was a fire…”

“Oh god.” San mumbles, looking down. “I don’t… I don’t remember. I don’t remember the driver or the accident. I don’t remember… a lot of stuff, I think.”

“What _ do _you remember?” Yunho asks gently.

“Um. I remember you. Us.” San answers easily.

He remembers Yunho. He remembers glimpses… silly selfies and vacations and gifts and a huge wedding. He remembers who caught the little stuffed dog plushie he’d thrown in place of a bouquet (it had been Wooyoung, his mind supplies: just the name and his face and nothing else).

It had been _ their _ wedding. Yunho is his… 

His… 

San watches how Yunho stares, eyes raking over every part of him, his expression betraying his joy and relief. He is happy to see that San is okay, despite whatever worry he has. He’s grateful that he’s awake, and alive.

San offers a reassuring smile, his head tilting a little. “We’re married.”

Yunho grins brightly, his cheeks puffing up and making his eyes crinkle. “Yeah. We did it as soon as they made it legal here. I kept trying to convince you to let me take you somewhere else it was legal already… for at least a year. But you wanted it to be here. You knew one day this country of ours would catch up with so many of the others.”

San doesn’t remember why he would have wanted that. Maybe he has some sense of national pride as a Korean.

He remembers Yunho. He remembers tropical paradises and shopping trips and airport layovers and charity galas. He remembers beautiful moments, making memories, feeling _ happy, _but… 

He does not remember loving Yunho.

He does not remember loving Yunho, but when Yunho’s hand finds his, wrapping it up in his own with a sweet, comforting smile, he can imagine how he could.

-O-

Things are as well as they can be, at first.

After getting the all-clear from the hospital, Yunho brings San back to their home. It’s a massive penthouse apartment in the heart of Seoul, and Yunho gives him a tour, hoping to help him get reacquainted with life before the accident.

San realizes they must be very, _ very _wealthy.

Yunho is a CEO. He runs a company with “Technologies” in the name so that must count for something. San takes in all the framed photos of them spread across the home. There are some pretentious art pieces that Yunho insists had been all San’s purchases, but San doesn’t remember or particularly care for them. He doesn’t tell Yunho.

“What did I do?”

Yunho’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean my job. What did I do?” San asks more clearly.

“Oh.” Yunho seems momentarily lost. “Um. Whatever you wanted to. You used to do some modeling. I still have the proofs from some of your shoots.”

“Used to?”

“Well, not as much recently, since we got married. You mostly… well, you networked for me a lot. You’re kind of a genius at it.” Yunho says, and he sounds proud. “Used to brag about getting all those billionaires eating out of your hand, convincing them to invest in the company when I wasn’t sure you even knew what exactly we were selling. A lot of times it was their wives you convinced, you know? Always out at brunch or some dinner and then the next week our investments would spike. I called it ‘working your magic’.”

“Sounds like I thought I was some kind of socialite.” San replies flatly, a little disappointed in the idea.

Yunho shrugs. “I guess? I’ll be honest, it never really mattered to me what you did. I make enough that you didn’t need to work, so why would I expect you to?”

San frowns, wringing his hands a little. “I don’t know, it just… seems unfair? Shouldn’t I have been contributing? I mean, if I didn’t work and just spent your money, what was I really bringing to the table?”

“You loved me.” Yunho says as though it is the simplest thing, and yet the most profound answer. His smile is nostalgic more than melancholy. “That’s all I ever needed.”

San feels guilt twist in his gut, because for all the memories he has with Yunho, he cannot remember _ loving _ him. He associates the memories with happiness—most of them, he thinks—but he cannot remember that feeling of love.

It’s only been a day, though, he reasons to himself. It’s completely within the realm of possibility that his memories will come back. Maybe not tomorrow, and maybe not all of them… but he shouldn’t give up hope yet. Yunho doesn’t look like he has.

-O-

Yunho seems to find joy in reintroducing him to things from their life before. It occurs to San that Yunho has also been without that sense of normalcy for six months himself, so it’s nice to think that maybe they aren’t on such different pages after all.

Except, as the days wear on and the novelty of newness wanes, so does the joy. San feels like a clueless guest in what is supposed to be his own home, and Yunho navigates around him as though he’s a skittish stranger. The first night, Yunho convinces him they should sleep in the same bed, and San doesn’t see the harm in it. He hardly sleeps, with Yunho’s long limbs wrapped around him as though he is afraid San will disappear in the dead of the night.

But as the days go by, Yunho takes a guest bedroom, shares fewer meals with him, and even excuses himself to deal with work-related things, even though he had told San he was taking time away from the company to help him with his recovery.

San sees Yunho’s happiness fade little by little, until it is gone altogether.

-O-

Weeks go by, and San sees so little of Yunho that it’s almost as though they don’t share a home at all. San tries, tries so hard to remember more of their lives together, more of his _ own _ life even before Yunho, because if he could remember _ something _ then at least it would be a start.

One memory he does have is loving food. He thinks Yunho might be pretty terrible at cooking, so he wonders if that might’ve been _ his _ thing. San doesn’t remember _ how _ to cook, per se, but he has so much free time that he watches tutorials and live streams and even cooking shows until he thinks he can manage something.

Yunho comes home on a Friday night and instantly reels at the smell in the apartment. Nothing _ bad, _San is sure…he didn’t burn anything. He was meticulous about following the recipe.

“What is this?” Yunho asks, his voice hoarse and raw. 

“I made dinner.” San tells him, offering a plate and a timid smile. “I thought, since you’ve been working so much, a home-cooked meal would be nice. It’s just kimchi fried rice, but—”

“You’ve never cooked for me in your _ life.” _Yunho grunts, turning on a heel and heading out of the kitchen without another word.

San stares down at his wasted hard work and wonders how such a nice gesture could have been so _ wrong. _

-O-

Eventually, something in Yunho softens.

He doesn’t apologize for his behavior, just for being ‘busy with work’. San doesn’t expect an apology. He honestly doesn’t want one. He understands… after all, Yunho is grieving.

Yunho may not have lost San in the flesh, but he did lose him, in many ways. San is not the same. He doesn’t remember most of their life together, almost _ any _ of his life before… and he can’t remember what kinds of things make him happy until he is reintroduced to them. That first day, Yunho had told him he enjoyed collecting plushies. The idea seemed a little silly to San until he found the guest bedroom where he’d apparently kept them, piled so high on the bed that they nearly obscured the mattress. He finds some comfort in cuddling with them, since Yunho hasn’t shared their bed in over a month.

When Yunho comes home with promises of trying to spend more time with San, he also comes home with a large stuffed bear.

“Thank you.” San says softly, hugging it tightly while Yunho watches, some of that joy sparking back into his eyes.

After that, Yunho goes the route of gift-giving.

San wonders if this was his own love-language before, because it doesn’t seem like Yunho’s. Yunho seems like the kind of person who wants to connect on a deeper level, which is probably why he is mourning the loss of San’s memories.

Yunho buys him things that, quite frankly, San couldn’t really care less about. Designer clothes. Watches. Bags. Belts. Shoes. More plushies. San likes those best, and holds them close while they sit on the couch and Yunho plays old videos of the times they’ve spent together. A lot of it is from social media; Instagram Lives and Facebook videos… but there’s also the video from their wedding, their honeymoon in Saipan.

San remembers all this. Exactly this. But nothing more. It’s as though he watched those videos as soon as he woke in the hospital and they are all that have imprinted upon his brain.

He feels like a cheap, hollow copy of the man in Yunho’s photographs.

-O-

“Why don’t we… do something different?” San asks one night, boldly taking Yunho’s hand. “Why don’t we just have date nights, maybe at some places that might be familiar to me? And then you can just tell me stories. Not just about us, but about you.”

“Can we just… do it here? At home?” Yunho suggests, playing with San’s fingers. “Restaurants are loud, and if we run into anyone we know, I’ll have to explain—”

“Right, that makes sense. Here is fine. We can order in.” San agrees. He has no intentions of trying to cook again.

Yunho nods.

San thinks this might be his best idea yet.

Yunho is a little melancholy when he tells San about some of the things he doesn’t remember, like how they met and even how they fell in love. He seems only a little less so when talking about himself, probably repeating things San should already know. How he came from nothing and built his company from the ground up, how his research has always been about helping people and he never thought it would be lucrative, but that he’s grateful because it gives him a platform to reach the people who need it most. Not only that, but he has the resources to help even more people than he ever could have just working for someone else.

Yunho talks about growing up with a family who didn’t value his dreams, who pushed him to be something he wasn’t sure he could ever be, but that in the end, he achieved everything he did because they kept at him. He lost both of his parents to early-onset dementia, and they are the reason so much of his research funding goes into healthcare. They are the reason he decided to specialize in genetics.

San listens with rapt attention, and despite Yunho’s clear morose at reliving some of those painful memories, he begins to understand how he fell in love with him in the first place.

At the end of another long-winded story, Yunho sighs and throws back the rest of his wine, glancing away like he can’t find it in his heart to acknowledge the way San is looking at him.

“Remember any of that?” He mumbles in a way that says he knows it’s a pointless question.

“No.” San admits, sliding his hand across the table to take Yunho’s into his own. “But it’s all right.”

Yunho lets out a mirthless laugh. “It’s anything but all right.”

“I know that this probably seems daunting, but… I’m trying to make the most of it.” San tells him, smiling brightly until his dimples appear. “It’s kind of like… getting to date a second time, right? I have the chance to fall in love with you all over again. Not many people can say that.”

Yunho presses his lips together, trying to smile, though it doesn’t quite come. He sets a palm against San’s cheek softly. “I’m sorry.”

Sorry that he does not feel that way about it, San surmises.

Sorry that he doesn’t _ want _ to date again, because he already _ had _ his forever love, except, he doesn’t anymore.

San is sorry, too. San just wants to be what Yunho needs.

-O-

Eventually, Yunho introduces San to Park Seonghwa, his psychiatrist.

They’ve worked together since well before the accident. They’ve been friends for a longer time than that. Seonghwa seems to have known San, too, by the way he stares at him, clearly masking whatever he may be feeling for San’s benefit.

“Nice to meet you.” San says, because he doesn’t remember Seonghwa even a little. Except that maybe he was at the wedding.

Seonghwa asks him questions in a soothing, non-probing manner that makes San feel like he’s being handled as if he’s some fragile thing. He’s got amnesia; he’s not expensive china. He tries not to act outwardly offended.

San thinks Seonghwa and Yunho probably used to meet elsewhere, because when he accidentally happens across Yunho’s office while the two of them are speaking, he’s certain he’s not supposed to hear what they’re saying.

“It’s just… he’s not the same.”

San wants to leave, knows he _ should, _but some part of him can’t make his feet budge.

Seonghwa speaks, then, and he can’t _ move. _“You knew the risks, Yunho-ssi, the doctors told you he might never—”

“I know what the doctors said.” Yunho hisses angrily. “Half of the things I’ve patented doctors said would never be possible. So to hell with what _ they _said—”

“Okay, all right.” Seonghwa soothes. “The point still stands that you knew. You’ve always known.”

“I know.” Yunho grits out, raw. “But...having him like this, you know…you would think it would still be better than not having him at all. But now I wonder if I just lost him anyway.”

Seonghwa’s next question is hesitant, and loaded. “Do you… have regrets?”

“Do I have regrets?” Yunho repeats with disdain, giving a bitter laugh. “I regret not knowing where he was going that night. I regret not stopping him. I regret not being with him. I regret that for all my fucking money, all this technology and genius… that it doesn’t matter. I’ll never have _ my _Sannie back. He’s gone.”

There’s a pregnant pause, a long stretch of silence before Seonghwa speaks again.

“Things won’t ever be the same, but… you still have _ him.” _He says, meaningful. “You can make new memories. Build a new life together. Right now it might seem like you’re standing in the rubble of everything you’ve lost, but the foundation is there. Leave the past in the past and forge a new future together.”

“But how can I?” Yunho asks desperately. “When I look at him, all I can see is everything we had before, everything he doesn’t remember, _ can’t _remember—”

“I know, Yunho. I know.” Seonghwa sighs, holding two hands out in front of himself. “The two of you are on the same path, you are just at very different points along it. It may be hard, but it’s time that you stopped and considered backtracking to meet him. Then you can move forward together.”

Yunho sighs, but doesn’t say anything.

“Unless you don’t want to.” Seonghwa presses. “You can end it. You can always end it.”

“No.” Yunho bites out, strangled but not hesitant.

San is surprised to hear him say it.

“No, I… that wouldn’t be fair on him. Regardless of anything.”

Seonghwa’s tone is soft, then. “Yunho-ssi, despite your doubts and your fears and your grief, you are a kind person. You are a _ good _person. I think he sees that, too.”

San hears them shuffling and books it down the hall before he can get caught eavesdropping.

-O-

San’s heart starts hammering in his chest when he sees Yunho hours later, but it’s apparent he has no idea San heard his conversation. Yunho offers as much of a smile as he can manage, just like he always does, speaking tenderly.

“Hey, if…if you wanted to cook again, that’d be okay. You seemed to…I don’t know, it seemed to make you happy.”

San’s face crumples.

Yunho rushes the distance between them, taking both of San’s hands into his own. “Sannie, what’s wrong—?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that things have changed… that I’ve changed so much.” San sobs, and for the first time since that first night, Yunho wraps his arms around him and holds him like something familiar.

-O-

Instead of trying to find common ground in the memories they share, Yunho begins to revel in the things they can experience for the first time. Realizing San has no memory of even the most popular and classic films, Yunho shows him a ton of movies. He shows him so many of them that San has a hard time keeping them all straight in his head. Yunho goes on and on about how he’s one of the few people on earth who doesn’t have knowledge of the apparently iconic spoilers of films like Star Wars and The Sixth Sense. 

San doesn’t know what a ‘Star War’ is, but he finds out soon enough.

They spend their evenings curled up on the couch together watching all those movies, and it’s better than watching all the home videos. San doesn’t try to wrack his brain for the vestiges of some forgotten memory with every clip. He just… watches, experiences, and even he comes to enjoy the way Yunho glances at him intently during certain points, trying to gauge his reactions. Maybe even reveling in them.

“What’s the first movie we ever watched together?” San asks him after they finish yet another marathon of Yunho’s favorites.

“Hmm…I think it was _Train to Busan.” _Yunho answers, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I was terrified even though I’d seen it before and you laughed at me. I knew then I could trust you to be the strong one in a zombie apocalypse.”

San barks a laugh. “Aw, I made fun of you for being scared? Poor baby.”

Yunho huffs at him and pulls him into an embrace that’s a little more like a vice grip, pouting at him. “Mean.”

San thinks he meant to say something, but the words die in his throat because Yunho is so _ close _ and it doesn’t necessarily feel _ familiar _ but it feels _ right. _

San leans in and kisses him.

Yunho doesn’t react at first, stock-still like he’s shocked, and San thinks he’s going to pull away, going to tell him that they shouldn’t, going to contrive some reason why it’s _ wrong… _ but he doesn’t. He lets out a sound that San will _ never _ forget, because it’s relief and longing all in one, a sob of something like joy, as he fists a hand into his hair and kisses him back fiercely.

San moves fully into Yunho’s space, his hands grabbing desperately beneath his shirt to get at the warmth of his skin, the both of them shivering at the contact.

It doesn’t spark memory, but it sparks _ want, _and San lets himself chase the feeling. It’s new and exciting and thrilling and everywhere Yunho touches him sings like electricity.

Yunho is fierce, but he is patient and considerate, and even later, San remains in his lap as Yunho rocks up into him, as though _ any _amount of space between them is too much.

He doesn’t remember being with Yunho in this way, but he knows for certain, now, that he will never forget.

-O-

Yunho returns to work with a little more regularity, but he no longer avoids San when he comes home. In fact, he generally greets him with fondness, especially if San has cooked.

There are plenty of times when San finds himself unceremoniously pinned to the kitchen counter and kissed within an inch of his life as a thank-you. San can’t help but giggle and bask in the affection.

San starts to feel more comfortable… it’s hard for him not to think of it as a ‘new’ life, because to him, it’s still so unfamiliar and fresh. But he eventually finds himself at ease in the massive apartment, with Yunho, with everything. He feels as though he has to fill his days with meaningless tasks and video games for the time being, but he’s trying to find a hobby he really enjoys to occupy his time.

Yunho digs out San’s old laptop for him, which he logs into with a fingerprint scanner, thankfully, because he has no earthly idea what the password is. He pokes around on it a little, but doesn’t find anything particularly interesting in the pictures or documents. There are a few games on it, and he restarts all three parts of The Room because the puzzles are all new to him now despite that he’s apparently solved them all before.

He’s just finishing up the second ending of the third game when an email notification pops up. It looks like it’s probably spam, but San thinks he must be one of those people who has to delete irrelevant emails as soon as he gets them, because he feels the need to instantly get rid of it.

His email client opens and he deletes what indeed was a spam email. There are a ton in his inbox, though, and the number is daunting. It seems like none of them are even remotely important, too, which just annoys him.

San is considering the merits of just mass deleting them when something catches his eye.

The little (1) next to his Drafts folder.

He has an unsent email.

Curious, he clicks on it.

According to the date, it was created over nine months prior. It’s addressed to Yunho’s personal email address, judging by the name, and the subject just says ‘OPEN ME’.

San does.

There’s hardly any text in the body of the email. Just one word.

“Bye.”

San’s breath catches a little. There’s a video attachment, so he clicks on it, expanding it to full-screen.

His own face appears, though he’s sporting black hair with some rather bold red streaks.

“Hey, Big Guy. We gotta talk.” The video starts.

His hair is different, but it’s him. Himself. San, staring right back at him through the screen.

He has no memory of recording this, but that isn’t so surprising.

The hair throws him off because it’s different from anything he remembers, anything he’s seen in videos or pictures.

“By the time I send this to you, I’ll be long gone, so don’t bother coming after me.” The San in the video rolls a few strands of hair in his fingertips. “Different from the blond, huh? Guess I was tired of my sweet image. Honestly, I’ve been tired of it all for a long fuckin’ time.”

San startles, but the video plows on.

“I’m just tired of pretending, you know?” A chuckle. “You’ve probably got that dumb look on your face like you always do when you can’t understand what’s in front of you. Probably can’t believe your loving Sannie isn’t a perfect angel. But I’m sick of playing house-wife to a clueless puppy.”

San feels like his throat is closing up on him.

“Everything about you is just _ boring! _ I mean, the sex wasn’t the _ worst, _ I guess. Just _ so _fucking vanilla. But I got plenty of what I really needed elsewhere.” The San on the screen smirks. “Does that hurt your feelings, Yunnie-wunnie? Poor baby.”

San stares at the screen, horrified. He can’t believe he would ever, that he _ could _ever want to say such things to Yunho—sweet, kind Yunho who has been his only support in these last few months.

“Anyway, this isn’t about who I’ve been fucking behind your back. I’m not shallow and petty enough to leave you over _ that, _ honestly. What do you take me for?” The San in the video scoffs, waving one hand dismissively. “No, I’m leaving you because you’re a colossal bleeding-heart imbecile and I don’t need _ your _money when all I need to do is sell your tech.”

San’s blood runs cold as he realizes just where this is going.

“My sweet, trusting Yunho… giving me access to your office, to your lab…honestly, I couldn’t _ believe _some of the stuff you were working on. But the fact that you refuse to monetize it is honestly pathetic.” Video San sneers, holding up a small USB device. “But whatever. If you won’t sell it to the highest bidder, I will. And I’ll get out of this boring marriage while I’m at it.”

San can’t watch any more. He doubts any of the rest matters. He snaps the laptop shut, tucking it under his arm and heading out of his room.

He needs to see Yunho.

-O-

Thankfully, Yunho is working from home.

He’s holed up in his office, but when San knocks, he invites him in without hesitation.

San must look as horrendous as he feels, because as soon as Yunho sees him, he’s on his feet, crossing the room.

“Sannie, is something the matter?”

San’s chest heaves with guilt at just how sweetly the other addresses him. He doesn’t deserve it.

“I really need to talk to you.”

Yunho’s brow furrows, his eyes tracking curiously to the laptop under his arm. “All right…here, come in.”

“You should sit.” San murmurs, and Yunho gives him a questioning look, but takes a seat in one of the leather chairs he has set out.

San puts the laptop on the table, bringing the video up. “I found this in my draft emails. It’s dated right before the accident.”

He presses play.

Yunho watches the video silently, though his face tells the story of his emotions. He hadn’t known. Hadn’t expected anything like this. From the way he treats San, from the memories he _ does _ have, he knows that Yunho is the kindest, gentlest man he’s ever met. He has obviously been grieving over the loss of San’s memories, over the loss of the man he _ knew, _and he doesn’t deserve this. But he deserves to know the truth.

Yunho’s eyebrows are pulled up a little at the center, his eyes so open and raw. 

“I—this… this explains… so much.” Yunho murmurs once the video ends, not meeting San’s eyes. “Why the taxi, why it was found so far away. Why the late-night drive with no warning.”

San hasn’t sat down. He’s just been hovering next to the couch, trembling. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“Why are you apologizing?” Yunho asks, pointed but genuine.

“I betra—” San’s voice cracks. and he does his best to catch his breath. “I betrayed you. I used you. I never even loved you.”

“You don’t remember this at all.” It’s not a question. San answers regardless.

“No, I—I don’t remember this. But I don’t remember loving you.” San tells him, not for the first time. He does his best to keep his composure, but he can’t. Tears stream down his cheeks, unhindered. “That’s why I couldn’t remember loving you. I could remember moments of happiness, but I couldn’t remember loving you, because I never did. It was all an act.”

San motions to the laptop screen with no little amount of disdain. Yunho is silent for a long moment, but he remains fairly composed. When he speaks, his voice is somewhat quiet, but it does not waver.

“Why are you crying?”

San makes a strangled noise, because it doesn’t feel like the kind of question that he should be asking. It doesn’t feel like it matters. He answers anyway.

“Because…I love you. I do, I love you, _ now, _ but before—I was only pretending! You deserve so much more than that and I—”

“That wasn’t you.” Yunho says in that same calm voice.

San scoffs. “I know I’ve changed because I lost my memory but that was still me! I’m still responsible, you can’t just _ absolve _me because I almost died from my own—”

“No, Sannie, that…” Yunho sighs, meeting his eyes. “That was _ never _you.”

San’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand.”

Yunho lets out a long, slow breath. “What’s a person but a bunch of nerves and synapses piloting a sack of meat and flesh? That’s all a human is. What makes a person who they are is a collective of all their memories, all their experiences… their traumas and their upbringing. Nature and nurture in tandem. You have everything of the former… but you don’t have all of the rest. I couldn’t… I _ shouldn’t _ have ever expected that you would be the same.”

San just listens, not really sure what to say.

“It’s basic science. You can’t do an experiment with different variables and expect to come up with the same result. That’s like…randomly throwing a bunch of different fruits into blenders and expecting the same smoothie from each. The variables were different. You were never going to be _ my _San. The San I married. How could you possibly be the same when you don’t have any memory of childhood? Of a first crush? Of realizing sexuality, of heartbreak, of trauma?”

San frowns, because he knows that Yunho is right.

“Whatever it was… whatever drove that decision, whatever created that selfishness, that cruelty… it doesn’t exist in you. It’s gone.” Yunho swallows, jaw tightening. “No, it’s not gone. It never was. Saying it’s gone implies it could come back. But it never will.”

“You can’t… you can’t know that for sure.” San rebuffs. “My memories might come back, and if they do, what if I become like that again? What if I hurt you—”

“Sannie, you cannot gain back memories you never had.” Yunho tells him, succinct.

San’s brows draw together. “What do you mean? How could I have never had them, that doesn’t—”

“I told you, that wasn’t you.” Yunho repeats, words heavy with meaning, this time. “That was _ never _you.”

San feels it in slow motion as the world begins crumbling down around him, time screeching to a halt as he turns those words over in his mind. He feels a sense of utter dread, but he cannot know why. He knows it must be some awful truth, but he doesn’t _ understand— _

“Yunho… what are you saying?” He asks finally, his voice breaking.

Yunho’s jaw twitches as he swallows. “I’d like to show you something.”

San nods mindlessly, watching as Yunho goes to his own computer. It takes him nearly a minute to access the files he’s looking for, finally turning the screen so that San can see.

There’s a video of a lab with several large tanks filled with something vaguely humanoid. On the table in the foreground, however, is someone who looks a whole lot like him, if he were just a bit younger, without his hair dyed.

“The technology that San stole? That I’m still perfecting? That I refused to sell because it should never be done for profit, should never fall into the hands of warmongers?” Yunho says, looking toward the screen. “That technology created you.”

San stares for a long moment, listening to Yunho as he monologues for the video log. An experiment. Replication. DNA recovery. Memory implantation.

“He...San died in that accident.” Yunho says, raw, as though it’s the first time he’s letting himself admit it.

San’s legs give out and he ends up crumpling to his knees.

His eyes are on the floor, but they’re far, far away.

“A clone. I’m a _ clone.” _

“You’re a person.” Yunho corrects softly, stepping up behind him but refraining from touching him. “You’re made from the same DNA, but you only have the education and memories I could approximate. You’re… you’re your own person, Sannie. And I’m sorry for expecting you to be someone else.”

“What… what purpose do I have, otherwise? Other than to be him, for you?” San asks, hollow.

“Whatever purpose you want. It isn’t fair for me to continue to pretend like this. I can’t expect you to replace him for me any more than I could expect the same of a twin brother, or a complete stranger who happened to share his face. You aren’t the same person.”

“I don’t… I don’t know how to have another purpose.” San murmurs, finally looking up.

He can pinpoint the exact moment Yunho’s heart breaks a little. He sees the cracks like fissures in the corners of his eyes, in the way his brows draw in, pitying.

“That’s just because I’ve been unfair to you, keeping you locked away…” Yunho insists. “But if you go out into the world and forge your own path—I’ll help you, of course, in whatever way you need—but if you do that, then…”

“No.” San cuts him off, watching as Yunho’s face falls. “I don’t want to wander the world alone, soul-searching, trying to find some greater purpose. I don’t _ want _another purpose.”

“San—”

“I don’t know how to have another purpose because I love you.” San tells him softly. “That’s the only purpose I want. I don’t need some profound life goal. I just want you.”

When San meets Yunho’s eyes, he looks as though his heart lies shattered between the both of them. San feels tears burning at his waterline, threatening to spill over.

“Is that…okay? 

Whatever is left of Yunho’s hesitation or resolve—whichever it may be—in that moment, it breaks.

Yunho launches himself at San, wrapping him up in his arms, and it’s like a dam bursting. The two of them just sit there on the floor, sobbing and holding each other and whispering promises they have every intention of keeping.

Maybe he was not the San that Yunho had wanted… but he would do everything he could to be the San he deserves.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic went through many different iterations before I settled on this. It was initially meant to be from Yunho’s perspective, and I’m considering a second chapter telling his side. My roommate actually gave me the idea to go with the plot twist, instead of being upfront about it from the start.
> 
> This was a large departure from what I usually write but I like to experiment. Please come yell at me on Twitter @VermillionVamp


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